


Valyria One Shots

by SaschaStark95



Series: Valyria [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, game of thrones
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 09:15:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12407484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaschaStark95/pseuds/SaschaStark95
Summary: One shots for my story Valyria.





	Valyria One Shots

**Author's Note:**

> These are just some one shots for my story Valyria. Basically chapters that will be featured in the story but there will be no apparent order as that is how my mind is working with this story. I have all these scenes in my mind of what I want to happen but writing it in a linear order just isn't working for me.

The Red Wedding

 

The cheering of the Freys' and the Stark men at the toast to the bedding of Lord Edmure Tully and Lady Roslin Frey was a rather heart lifting sound. To know that such cheer can still be had even with all the war and bloodshed going on all around us. The singers call it the War of the Five Kings, a poetic name at best, a horrible misrepresentation of the destruction caused in its wake at worst.

 

“Tell me, why does my beautiful wife have such a dower expression on her face at such a joyous occasion?” the deep voice, thick with a northern accent, caresses my ears as a smile slips across my lips and I turn to face my husband. Gently placing a hand on his cheek and giving him a chaste kiss I reply, “My thoughts are elsewhere, my love.” Taking my small hand in his he presses a light kiss to the palm of it. My eyes wearily look up to the high table and rest on our host, Lord Walder Frey. The man unnerves me with his weasley eyes and wandering hands; not to mention his lecherous attraction to young maids that are of age with his great granddaughters. 

 

“So tell us, my King,” Lord Walder drawls, sarcasm dripping with every word. “Who is this slip of a girl really? If I am to honor my queen I should at least know who she truly is.” My eyes narrow on the old man as the room begins to quieten. I have long since run out of the Tyroshi dye that gave my long silver hair it’s brown hue. Matched with my violet eyes one would be remiss to think me anything other than a Targaryen or at least of Valyrian descent. Though it is not his wits nor eyesight that has me on edge, it is the question itself that has my instincts telling me it is time to leave, that something is wrong. My husbands lets out a strained chuckle as he stands and offers me his hand. Slowly I take it and grip it rather tightly as I raise my head and hold myself with a queenly composure.

 

“Of course Lord Frey,” Robb replies. “It is my honor to present my wife, Valyria of Houses Targaryen and Stark, the Queen in the North.” With that said he once again raises my hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. I give him a tense smile as I notice a frown marr Lord Walder’s features at Robb’s display of affections. “So you would have us bow to a Targaryen? The very family that murdered your grandfather and uncle on the orders of a Mad King!” Lord Walder spits as he motions for the minstrels to begin playing again. Robb tenses at Lord Walder’s comment and he starts to shake with anger. “My Queen is not her father! Nor do I hold her father’s crimes against her.” 

 

My eyes glance across the room and I notice my mother by law turn to look up at the players before looking down and pulling up Lord Bolton’s sleeve. Something must have angered her for she strikes Lord Bolton across the face and shrieks for Robb. It is at this moment that chaos ensues as the players trade their lutes and drums for crossbows and arrows rain down upon the Stark men. A bloodcurdling scream tears through me as one of the arrows hits Robb in the chest. By this point the Frey men have taken up arms and are hacking and slashing at the Northmen. The sounds of people screaming in pain as they are hacked to death chills me to the bone. 

 

Forcing myself out of my head I rush to Robb’s side as I find him laying on the ground and that two more arrows have struck him. “My love,” I sob lightly. “We must leave, we need to get out of here. Can you stand?” His dull eyes meet mine as he gives a slight nod. Before I can move to help him sit up he weakly reaches out and places a bloody hand on my cheek and he pulls himself up with some hidden strength in order to place a kiss as light as snow fall on my lips. It’s not a long, lingering kiss, but the emotion behind it says everything I need to know. My beloved husband is saying goodbye, for he does not believe he will make it. Ignoring the tears that are welling up in my eyes I put on a brave face as I use all my strength to help him to his feet. Putting one arm around my shoulders I attempt to drag him away from the brunt of the fighting, only to be stopped by my husband’s own bannerman, Lord Bolton. “Let us pass Lord Bolton!” I command with as much force as I can muster. He only shakes his head and pushes me into the arms of two waiting Frey men. The stench of their rotting breath makes me gag as I am held flush against them. “The King in the North arises,” Lord Walder chuckles as he looks out with a smug satisfaction at the chaos that has just occurred. Quickly surveying everything I find the fighting has halted, at least for the moment.

 

“Lord Walder!” Catelyn shouts as she takes Lord Walder’s wife and holds a knife to her throat; the bowman moving to aim their arrows at her. “Lord Walder enough! Let it end. Please, he is my son.” She begs with tears in her voice as my eyes turn to Robb.

 

For a moment our eyes meet and it is as if time stops for but a moment as all the memories we share come rushing back to me. The first time he was brave enough to kiss me back when we were still in Winterfell and I was just Elia Willem, daughter of a poor hedge knight in Dorne and he, the eldest son of the Warden of the North. The day he asked for my hand even though I had nothing to offer him but the name of an exiled house; followed by the day we were wedded beneath Winterfell’s Heart Tree as the Summer snows fell all around us. Memories of the late nights in the Stark war camp invade my mind, memories of us drinking and laughing to drive away the growing darkness of some nights, and other nights of us making love into the long hours of the evening as we just bask in the warmth of each other. Tears prick my eyes and unbidden fall down my pale cheeks, feeling as cold as ice.

 

“My first son! Let him go and I swear I will not forget this! I swear it by the old gods and the new! We will take no vengeance-” my mother by law continues almost frantically. “You already swore me one oath right here in my castle. You swore to me that your son would marry my daughter!” Lord Walder interrupts with a vengeance. “Take me for a hostage! But let Robb go” came Lady Catelyn’s reply. “Robb get away from him!” Turning to look at her son in the clutches of Lord Bolton’s hands. “Get away from him and walk out! Please!” In a strange turn of events Roose Bolton let’s Robb go. Robb sways unsteadily on his feet for a moment before regaining his balance. Fighting my captors I struggle out of their grip and rush to Robb’s side. Taking me in his arms he holds me tightly to him as he gives me a hard, lingering kiss before whispering in my ear. “Mīsagon īlva tresy. Istis sagon āzma isse iā sȳrkta vys.” I nod my head in response as one of the Frey men grabs my arm and drags me away from Robb. “And why would I let him do that?” Lord Walder inquires to Lady Stark’s pleas. Swiftly she turns back toward Lord Walder, with the knife still at his wife’s throat. 

“On my honor as a Tully, on my honor as a Stark, let him go or I will cut your wife’s throat!” She growls in response as Lord Walder looks on with an unimpressed look. “I’ll find another.” He replies with a slight shrug. Finally, as if in a daze, Robb looks up at his mother and calls out to her; just as Roose Bolton moves from around him and places one hand on his shoulder as he whispers, “The Lannisters send their regards.” 

 

The sound of my shrieking deafens the room from the sound of the blade slicing through Robb’s flesh and into his heart. Tears blind my eyes but I can still make out the outline of Robb as he falls to his knees just before he hits the floor. My struggles weaken as I try to get away with little ambition. The sound of Lady Stark’s cries fill the hall as she mercilessly draws the knife across Lady Frey’s throat. In a moment of grief she brings her hands to her face and begins clawing at her eyes and down her cheek. The vision of a woman driven mad by grief. But a moment later a Frey man comes up from behind and slits her throat. The cut is so deep one might be able to see the bone if not for all the blood pouring out. 

 

The hold on me loosens and I find myself falling to the bloodstained floor, not having the strength to hold myself up. Slowly I crawl over to Robb as I try to remove the arrows from his chest. Looking down at my dress I rip the hem as I, in vain, try to stop the bleeding, as if anything I could do would bring life back to my husband. My tears mix with his blood as all strength and energy leaves me and I rest my head on his bloodied chest as I begin to sob and quietly sing the song that he always liked under my breath.

 

“The Targaryen Queen in the North. Brought so low. The King will find you an excellent prize indeed.” Lord Walder says as I am forcibly pulled up. “Now where is that beast of his?” My thoughts go to Grey Wind and the hope that he managed to be spared this massacre. Though those hopes are dashed when they bring in the giant body of the direwolf. A small cry rips through me as my heart breaks even more for this beautiful creature. 

 

“Remember, King Joffrey asked for the Stark boy’s head.” Lord Bolton says in a bored tone as he casually takes a sip of wine, as if a massacre had not just occured. Lord Walder simply huffs at this before a cruel look enters his eye. “King Joffrey wants Robb Stark’s head and so he shall have it. We shall have it delivered to the King by the Queen in the North.” Manically shaking my head I begin to cry out as I see a couple men begin to take knives and swords to Grey Wind and begin hacking at his neck. Roose Bolton, seemingly unimpressed by the sight takes a sword from one of the Frey men and in one swift swing takes the wolf’s head clean off. It is only when they start to move toward Robb that I begin thrashing at my captors as I scream out, “No! Leave him alone! Have you not done enough already?” I close my eyes as my pleas go ignored, but the sound of sword meeting flesh chills the very blood in my body. 

 

“I want you to look at him Your Grace,” Lord Walder drawls as a hand clenches on the jaw and moves my face straight forward, though I keep my eyes tightly closed. “Come now Your Grace, be a good wife and look upon your husband.” The grip on my jaws tightens and continues to until in shock I cry out and my eyes are forced open. The sight before my eyes brings up all the food I had eaten that night as I am face to face with my husbands severed head. Instantly the world begins to spin and my vision darkens as my consciousness fades into nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> Valyrian Translations (I used a couple online translators so I'm hoping they are correct)
> 
> Mīsagon īlva tresy- Protect our son  
> Istis sagon āzma isse iā sȳrkta vys- He must be born in a better world


End file.
